“It would appear that McFadden and his allies already control Donderath,” Carlisle observed.
“For now,” Penhallow replied. “Bayard has gone to help put down uprisings among the Plainsmen. Blaine and his allies must now focus their troops on Thrane and the Meroven threat if they’re to hold the kingdom.” He paused. “If we’re correct about Thrane’s intent, he likely spent much of his time in Meroven maneuvering for a successful return. He may have built a network of supporters, outfitted an army, backed a warlord he thought likely to win. These northern raids are likely his doing, and we can’t overlook the possibility that this new Meroven warlord, Nagok, may be Thrane’s man.”
“I suspect you’re right,” Dalton said. “It’s doubtful that Thrane went to ground in a crypt for nearly a century. He would have found patrons in a city, enriched them, then enslaved them. That’s his pattern.”
Jarett nodded. “Wasn’t that part of why he was exiled in the first place? Crimes not only against mortals but against talishte as well. And even then, he had supporters among the Elders, enough to make him outcast without destroying him.”
“With Thrane in Meroven during his exile, then the possibility exists he may well have had a hand in bringing the war—and the Cataclysm—down on both kingdoms,” the Wraith Lord replied. “It would be like him.”
“What do our scouts tell us?” Dalton asked.
Penhallow turned away from the map and sat on the corner of a large, wooden desk. “Kierken and I sent scouts into Meroven after the Battle of the Northern Plains. They only just returned. They found Meroven in even worse condition than Donderath: burned, flooded, reeling from magic storms and unstable magic. When Blaine McFadden restored the magic, the effects reached at least as far as Meroven. That much we know.”
“We assumed they lost their nobles and many of their mages, as we did,” Jarett said. “Was that true?”
Penhallow nodded. “Yes. The king and the nobles are dead, manors and cities destroyed, power split among squabbling bandits and warlords. Mages on both sides targeted the leadership; the difference was that Meroven unwittingly destroyed the bond of magic when they destroyed the Lords of the Blood. But now, Meroven is rebuilding. Power is coalescing in the hands of a few successful military leaders. And magic works again for them as it does for us.”
“Donderath was always the more prosperous of the two kingdoms,” the Wraith Lord replied. “It’s in Meroven’s blood to look toward Donderath with resentment. They believe Donderath has more fertile land, a better harbor, and more plentiful herds. Whether or not that’s true isn’t the point. Meroven has always seen Donderath as a treasure to be plundered. And whoever does so successfully would win great standing, perhaps a crown.”
“Which Thrane would be willing to promise, even if it wasn’t in his power to bestow,” Penhallow added drily.
“We have enough problems, without worrying about Meroven phantoms that may not come for a long while, if ever,” Jarett said.
“Meroven is not a someday threat,” Dolan replied. “Two of my Knights were among the scouts. Meroven has rallied troops not far from the border.”
“Mobs are of little use without a leader,” Carlisle observed. “They’re easy to rally, and easy to crush.”
Dolan shook his head. “Meroven has not been quiet this past year and a half. Factions there have battled for power, as they have here. Interestingly, the man who has emerged at the top was no one of consequence before the war, though he rose fast in its aftermath.”
Dalton shrugged. “One could argue the same of Blaine McFadden.”
“Many a man has risen to power from such beginnings,” Penhallow chided. “Among mortals, and even more, among talishte. Birth is a temporary advantage. Will, cleverness, and ruthlessness matter much more in the long run.”
“Our scouts have told us a leader has emerged in Meroven,” Dolan continued. “A general who goes by the battle name of Nagok has already sent raiding parties across the Donderath border, as spies.”
“Nagok,” Carlisle mused. “In the Meroven language, that means ‘night.’”
“Nagok appears to have the loyalty of his troops,” Dolan continued. “More of interest is that he also appears to have the help of powerful talishte.”
“Thrane and the rogue Elders?” Penhallow asked sharply.
“Maybe,” Dolan replied. “We haven’t identified where all of the Elders went after that last meeting. “Other than Bayard, and those of you gathered here.”
“We’ve had reports of Red being seen at Solsiden,” Dalton said. “And Aubergine was originally from Meroven, as I recall, so having him decide to slip across the border to fight for their side wouldn’t surprise me.”
“But you’re right—we have no idea where Sapphire, Jade, and the others are, other than not here,” Jarett said, curling her lip. “So it’s entirely possible that some of the Elders who sided with Thrane have gone to Meroven to line up allies.”
Connor remembered the masked figures in the standing stone circle. Thirteen Elders, before the council disbanded. Seven had supported Thrane, and that still left Saffron, Amber, and Emerald unaccounted for. Six, including the Wraith Lord, were allied with Penhallow. Onyx and his brood had the solemn responsibility of assuring that Pentreath Reese remained bound in the oubliette beneath his manor.
“What of the Meroven talishte?” Carlisle asked. “They weren’t governed by our circle of Elders.”
“Meroven had its own Elder Council,” the Wraith Lord replied. “On occasion, there would be a formal meeting between the leaders, so we could communicate.”
“We were never apprised of that,” Carlisle bristled.
The Wraith Lord turned to him, unfazed. “You did not need to know.”
“Was the Cataclysm a sufficient enough ‘problem’ to initiate communication?” Dalton asked, not attempting to hide the edge in his voice.
“Yes,” the Wraith Lord replied. “But our summons has gone unanswered. We have heard nothing.”
“So they either have no intention of working with us or they were destroyed or disbanded,” Carlisle said.
“That was my conclusion,” the Wraith Lord said. “We can’t count on help from that side.” And we don’t know whether Thrane played a role in breaking up their Circle, like he did here, Connor thought.
“So we’re on our own, against the renegades from the Elders and their broods, as well as Thrane, his brood, and the armies of Pollard and Nagok,” Carlisle summarized.
Penhallow nodded. “Now you see why I believed circumstances warrant use of the Elgin Spike.”
Jarett, Carlisle, and Dalton exchanged glances. They did not speak, but their expressions conveyed grudging acquiescence. “To use the Elgin Spike, one would have to know where to find it,” Dalton said quietly.
Penhallow and the Wraith Lord nodded. “Yes,” Penhallow replied.
“You know,” Jarett confirmed.
Penhallow raised an eyebrow. “I hid it.”
Carlisle reddened with anger. “And we were not told?”
“The Elders could not be trusted with the knowledge,” the Wraith Lord rumbled. “As we have seen, the Elders were of divided loyalties, even back then.”
“You go too far, Kierken,” Dalton challenged.
“On the contrary. It’s only now that we finally have the will to go far enough,” the Wraith Lord replied. Something about his power shifted, becoming larger and more potent, filling the space with an uncomfortable fullness, although the translucent form never changed its size.
Dalton felt the shift, and inclined his head. “I meant no offense, my lord.”
Interesting, Connor thought. Even now, when the Circle of Elders has been disbanded, they still defer to him. It was not the first time that Connor had felt a frisson of sheer terror when he realized the enormous power of the ancient spirit he allowed to fill his mind and possess his body.
“How will you reclaim it?” Jarett asked.
“I intend to send
a trusted team,” Penhallow replied. “Connor and the Wraith Lord will lead them. Nidhud from the Knights of Esthrane will also go with them. And Blaine McFadden has already sent several of his best people, ones with special skills, to accompany the group: a far-seer, one of the former convicts, and two warriors who have been changed by the wild magic of the storms.”
Zaryae, Connor thought. Along with Borya and Desya. But where are we going?
“You choose not to accompany them?” Dalton asked, raising an eyebrow.
Penhallow shook his head. “I dare not leave Donderath, especially without the Wraith Lord present. Thrane is dangerous enough, even without other allies. We are the bulwark to hold him back until the others can return.”
“Meaning he’ll need more than your lip service,” the Wraith Lord snapped. “He’ll need you on the battlefield, along with your broods, ready to put steel to flesh to back up your fancy words.”
“Where is the Elgin Spike?” Jarett asked.
Penhallow met his gaze. “Edgeland. Where it has been for more than a century. In the care of my servant, Arin Grimur.”
“Edgeland!” Connor’s voice rose. “You’re sending me up to Edgeland?” The rest of the Elders had gone, leaving only Connor, Penhallow, and the Wraith Lord. Dawn was not far off, which would end the conversation. Connor had plenty of questions before then.
“Edgeland was the safest place I could reach,” Penhallow replied with a shrug. He poured a goblet of deer blood from a decanter and swirled it before taking a sip. “A century ago, it was a true wasteland. Velant did not exist, and neither did Skalgerston Bay.”
“I thought Arin Grimur was exiled,” Connor challenged.
“It was a convenient lie,” the Wraith Lord replied.
Connor had met Arin Grimur when fate and a drifting, damaged ship landed him in Edgeland right after the Great Fire. Theirs had been one of the few refugee ships to find a safe harbor, if one could call Skalgerston Bay ‘safe.’ It had been then that Connor had met Blaine McFadden and his friends and gotten mixed up with McFadden’s efforts to restore the broken magic. Arin Grimur had saved their lives, more than once.
“Do Zaryae and the others know where we’re going?” Connor asked. Making one round trip to Edgeland and surviving it was already pushing his luck. The idea of a second such trip frightened him to his marrow.
“Perhaps not yet. Blaine and I agreed that the fewer who know in advance, the better for our chances of success. I left it up to Blaine how much to share and when,” Penhallow replied. He poured a glass of real whiskey, one of the few bottles that remained from before the Great Fire, and handed it to Connor. “Drink. You’ll feel better.”
Connor let the whiskey burn down his throat, savoring the rare luxury. He doubted the contents of the entire bottle would dull his dread of returning to Edgeland. “You’re just going to spring it on them when they get here?”
Penhallow chuckled. “If necessary. More likely, Blaine will tell them before that. Verran is also being asked to go, to reestablish trade with Edgeland,” he said. “I’ve already gathered provisions for your trip: weapons, clothing, supplies, and a ship. Blaine is making sure you take plenty of highly desirable and useful goods to share with the colonists.”
Connor frowned. “It’s a month’s trip one-way,” he said. “I doubt even magic could change that. What happens here, while we’re gone?”
“I work with Voss and McFadden to hold back whatever Thrane unleashes against us,” Penhallow replied matter-of-factly. “Which is why Kierken is accompanying you and I am not.”
Another thought occurred to Connor, and he frowned. “Does the kruvgaldur reach to Edgeland?”
“The kruvgaldur reaches you where you are,” the Wraith Lord replied. “Alive or dead. And you think distance matters?”
“The last time I was in Edgeland, the bond seemed weak,” Connor challenged.
Penhallow raised an eyebrow. “Much has happened in the time since then. How many times have you needed my blood to heal? Each time you take my blood, it binds you more tightly and strengthens the kruvgaldur.”
Connor had some experience of his own with the ‘alive or dead’ part, and it had been his kruvgaldur bond and Penhallow’s blood that had brought him back again. The thought of returning to Edgeland was terrifying, but less so knowing he would be going with friends and with the lifeline of the kruvgaldur.
“When do we leave?” Connor asked. It was easier to just begin planning than to dwell on the dangers.
“Verran and the others should arrive in the next few candlemarks. We’re preparing the ship to leave in the next day or so,” Penhallow replied. “Given the time it will take to get to you Edgeland and back, I don’t think we dare delay.”
Maybe it’s better not to spend too much time thinking about it, Connor thought. Still, it takes some getting used to.
Two candlemarks later, the doors to the parlor opened to welcome five travelers. They were dusty with the grit of the road, dressed to attract as little attention as possible. Connor rose to meet them, genuinely pleased to see his friends again.
“So this is where you spend your time when you’re not getting knocked flat on your ass.” Verran Danning hooked his thumbs in the waist of his trews and looked around.
Connor clapped him on the shoulder in greeting. “Just don’t make off with what’s left of the silverware, all right?” he bantered.
Verran made a face at him. “That takes all the fun out of it,” he said with a wicked grin.
Zaryae moved up to greet Connor with a hug. “We’re just glad to be here in one piece,” she said, giving him a friendly squeeze before she released him. “We ran into bandits on the way here.”
“She means that we had some fun,” Borya said.
“Rather more than we expected,” Desya seconded. The twins reminded Connor of ravens, with their dark hair and somewhat prominent noses.
Connor and Penhallow exchanged a glance. “Do we need to dispatch troops?” Connor asked.
Borya chuckled. “You can’t kill them deader than they already are,” he replied. “Desya and I considered it a warm-up.”
“After all, it’s been a couple of weeks since we’ve been in a good, death-defying battle,” Desya drawled sarcastically. “We were starting to get soft.”
Nidhud was the last to enter. He was a stocky man who was no taller than Connor but built heavier, like a bull. His dark eyes showed the shrewdness of centuries of battle. Nidhud was one of the Knights of Esthrane assigned to support Blaine McFadden. “Apologies for our delay,” Nidhud said. “We were unavoidably detained on the road.”
“He means that we had to stop to muck out the stables—in a manner of speaking,” Borya supplied with a smirk.
“Come in and sit down,” Penhallow said, welcoming them. “I’ve sent word for food to be brought. You’ve come a long way. Rest.”
Connor resisted the urge to blurt out what was on his mind. Might as well rest now, because we’re being shipped off to the end of the world in a few days. Instead, he took a sip of his whiskey, then poured glasses of whiskey or brandy for the newcomers, who found seats near the darkened fireplace. It was late summer in Donderath, dramatically warmer than Edgeland’s ‘mildest’ season. Connor tried to still his apprehension and focus on the moment, where he was safe, comfortable, and still on dry land.
Servants brought plates of rabbit with stewed parsnips, onion, and radishes. Borya and Desya dug in with their usual gusto. Zaryae sipped tea and picked at her food, while Verran savored his whiskey before starting on the hearty meal. Nidhud was content with a goblet of blood.
“How are Blaine and Kestel?” Connor asked, anxious for news.
“Still besotted with newlywed bliss, when they’re not fighting a war,” Verran replied with his mouth full.
“They’re both doing well,” Zaryae replied with a reproving glance at Verran and the twins, a look that was openly and pointedly ignored. “There’s been trouble on the Solveigs’ border with ra
iders from the west. Blaine and the twins just got back from fighting out there.”
“And the fight—was it successful?” Penhallow asked, sipping a goblet of deer blood as the others ate.
Borya nodded and swallowed before answering. “Thanks to Bayard. With luck, the alliance will hold.”
Verran finished his food and leaned forward. “So, can we talk about why I’m here? I understand requesting the others. They’re actually good in a fight. But me? I’m only an amateur spy compared with someone like Kestel.”
“Your music could send the enemy screaming in pain,” Desya needled.
“Or surrendering to end the torment,” Borya added before Zaryae elbowed him, hard, in the ribs.
Verran took the teasing good-naturedly. “See what I mean?”
Nidhud’s expression had grown solemn. “Except that you’re one of Blaine’s original companions,” he said quietly. “One of the Velant prisoners and Edgeland colonists. And of the original group, the easiest to spare from present responsibilities.”
“Yeah, expendable,” Verran said with a sigh. “Can’t send Blaine, he’s busy being a warlord. Can’t send Kestel or Piran, because they’re watching his back. Dawe’s about to get married, and he’s a lousy fighter anyhow. At least I can throw rocks. Dawe’s likely to get himself captured even if we leave him in Donderath,” Verran said, looking first to Connor and then to Penhallow. “Please tell us why you’re sending us back to that icy godsforsaken place. Blaine wouldn’t say—only told me what he wanted me to do when we got there.” His gaze locked with Connor’s. “Come on, Connor. You’ve been there. No reason at all for a sane man to go back.”
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